


Battlegrounds

by Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/pseuds/Eternal%20Scribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had almost lost him that day on the battlefield, and until her father had arrived, she had thought she had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battlegrounds

The world was full of cries and of pain and of blood. Everywhere a person looked, someone was fighting a fierce battle. There was no respite.

Through the smoke, Guinevere saw Cynric -- the man responsible for the death of Dagonet. There was fighting all around her, but all she saw was him and remembered Lucan's tears when told of Dagonet's fate. Letting loose with her battle cry, she rushed to engage him in battle.

It was, perhaps, a foolish move.

She was already wounded and suffering from the fatigue of a great deal of fighting, but she could not back down from this one. Not from _him_. She could hear the clash of weapons and cries of the men and women around her, and these things were seared into her mind as she faced him. There were people she cared about dying... people in pain. There were more of Briton's children falling to the army led by this man and his father. She snarled, and jumped at him, swinging her axes as she moved.

The battle between them seemed to be going in her favor, but then a miscalculation and his sword sliced into her shoulder, causing a cry of pain that seemed very loud to her ears even over the clash of steel all around her. She moved back, trying to get her bearings so she could defeat this Saxon bastard once and for all. She swung her axe with all of her might and it connected, however, his sword also hit her again. She fell to the ground, jarring her wounded shoulder and knocking the wind out of her. Looking up, she saw the sword coming down at her head and knew that there was no way she would be able to move in time.

She heard the whistling of the sword swinging down and as she watched her death coming at her, she heard the clang of metal as his sword was blocked. It took a moment for her mind to register what had happened.

There were two swords crossed right above her neck, and her eyes traveled up the second blade until she found herself looking into Lancelot's face. His eyes were hard as he flicked a glance to her before focusing on Cynric again.

"I don't think so," Lancelot smirked, using a boot to kick him away.

The fight between Lancelot and Cynric was every bit as intense as hers had been -- perhaps more. She watched them as they struck blows on each other in a vicious display of aggression. There was a feral light in Lancelot's eyes that she had never seen before, and he seemed to almost be dancing with his opponent. Before she could wonder much about it, she saw others of Cynric's army coming their way.

She gathered her weapons and with her unwounded arm, she took on any Saxons that came too near the two men. In the fighting, she was drawn off a little ways as she pressed her attacks. Guinevere lost track of how many times her ax blocked or hacked into her enemies. All she was focused on was killing as many of them as she could and keeping them away from Lancelot's back. As she killed her latest challenger, she happened to turn... and see Cynric fire the crossbow at Lancelot.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she watched the bolt pierce his chest and then she felt horror race through her as he fell. She cried out and fought her way back to his side---cutting viciously through anyone who tried to get into her way. When she saw that Cynric was dead -- one of Lancelot's two blades in his chest, she sank to her knees in the blood and the mud to cradle Lancelot's head in her lap. All around her, the battle raged on, but she didn't care. All that mattered was keeping Lancelot with them and keeping his head off of the ground. She looked around the field through her tears and saw that everyone else was engaged in skirmishes and she saw that Arthur was ruthless in his killing of any of the Saxons that even turned in his direction. She could tell by the way he was fighting that he had heard her scream Lancelot's name and had seen him fall. She could almost pity the Saxons who were stupid enough to be in his way. A few times, she heard him shout something to her, but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Listen to me, damn you, Lancelot," she spoke softly, but determinedly, to Lancelot through her tears. "You are not going to leave him, you are not going to leave me...please, love, you cannot..."

Lancelot looked at her and smiled softly. He tried to say something, but all that passed his lips was blood and then his eyes closed.

"No," she whispered. That whisper turned into a scream of anguish that she was sure echoed throughout the field. "Lancelot...no!" 

She stayed there, holding him to her and trying to will her life into him. Her focus shifted from the battle to that body she held close to her. The Saxons thought this would be the perfect time to come at the woman who had helped kill their leader. She was only dimly aware of the weapons clashing around her, but she didn't spare even a glance their way. Every time one of the enemy tried to get to her, one of her warriors cut him down in his tracks. She paid no attention to any of the Saxons that fought around her. Her eyes were full of tears as she rocked Lancelot in her arms.

Guinevere wasn't aware of when the battle ended. She hadn't moved from her spot on the ground, even though there was evidence of the fighting that had taken place around her. Through the smoke from the many fires that had been set, Arthur could see her kneeling with Lancelot's head against her chest.

He made his way over to her, sparing only a quick glimpse for the bodies around her. "Guinevere?"

When she didn't answer, Arthur knelt at Lancelot's side. He looked at Guinevere in question, reaching out to touch her face so that she would look at him. She seemed surprised to see him and she gestured towards Cynric's dead body with her head. 

"You killed the father...he killed the son..." she whispered in a voice that shook.

"Lancelot!" he cried. "My brave friend, I have failed you! I niether got you off of this cursed island, nor shared your fate!"

Guinevere couldn't accept Arthur blaming himself for Lancelot's death. She swallowed and shook her head as she lay a blood-covered hand along Arthur's cheek.

"It was my fault," she said softly, forcing herself to meet his gaze as tears slipped down her cheeks. "It was my fault," she repeated. "I let my rage get the best of me and I ran and attacked Cynric." She felt her tears flow faster as Arthur just stared at her in silence. She was convinced that she had lost both of her loves in a single evening. "Cynric eventually got the best of me, I was too tired to move fast enough and his sword stabbed through my shoulder and I went down. When he pulled his sword free, I saw my death in his eyes. He was planning to kill me as I was laying there. He swung his sword at my head...Lancelot came to my aid, his sword deflecting..." Guinevere couldn't go on, and she looked down. Her shoulders were shaking as her tears rained down onto Lancelot's face.

"You're wrong, lass," Gawain said as he squeezed her shoulder gently. She hadn't been aware of the other knights coming to surround them and the expression on her face said as much. "We all saw the beginning of your clash. Cynric sought you out on purpose. He knew you were important to both Arthur and Lancelot...anyone who has seen you would know that without being told. Cynric knew that if he killed you, he would be able to strike a terrible blow that would never heal, and maybe that would make us all easier to destroy. There was no place for you to run, his men had you surrounded. You had no choice but to engage the bastard. Had you not, he would have stabbed you in the back."

"But Lancelot..."

"Made his choice," Bors said, looking at Arthur across Lancelot's body as he came to their side. "Lancelot made the choice to get to you, lady."

"Any one of us would have done the same thing," Galahad added as he supported the wounded Tristan. "Just as you have done for us before."

Tristan's head nodded in tired agreement. "You're a noble soul, lady, and you have an honorable heart. You have stood by us when the odds were overwhelming and any of us would stand by you if you were in need."

"Lancelot just beat us all to it," Bors said with a sad smile.

Arthur still hadn't spoken a word by the time Merlin arrived at their sides, and Guinevere was heartbroken over it. Trying to hide her warring emotions of grief over Lancelot and sadness over Arthur, she managed a small nod at her father.

The first thing Merlin did was to inspect his daughter. He frowned in concern at some of her more severe wounds and knew they would need to be taken care of immediately, if not sooner. He could tell that she was in great physical pain, but she didn't utter a complaint. While this did make him even prouder of his daughter, he knew that she could not refuse care for very long. Merlin then looked at Arthur. Arthur also had several wounds, but just like Guinevere, he was focusing on the body of his fallen friend. He then turned his attention to Lancelot. He ran his hands over him for a moment, and then he looked at the knights.

"Bring him," he commanded. He waited until Bors and Gawain lifted Lancelot, then turned and led them into the stronghold.

Arthur got to his feet, then extended a hand to help Guinevere to rise. They stared into each other's eyes in silence for a few moments, before turning to follow Merlin. Galahad brought up the rear with Tristan.

When they carried Lancelot into a large bedchamber, Guinevere hung back. After she saw that he was being made comfortable on the bed, she turned to leave. She was stopped by a grip of steel on her wrist. She looked down at the hand around her wrist and her eyes followed the arm up until the rested on Arthur's face.

"Where are you going?" he asked her softly, the pain in his eyes showing through.

Guinevere's heart was breaking. "I don't want to...I shouldn't be..."

Arthur pulled on her wrist gently, bringing her closer to him. "Your place is with me...with us."

"Arthur..."

"Guinevere," he said softly, pulling her even closer to him. "I'm sorry that you blame yourself for what happened, but your place is with Lancelot and myself. We need you right now."

She nodded and followed him into the room where her father had begun working on Lancelot.

What followed were several weeks of the two of them keeping a watch at Lancelot's bedside. Niether of them left his side unless they had no choice but to leave. One day they were in Lancelot's room as usual when Arthur noticed how white Guinevere's face had gotten.

"Guinevere?" His concern was evident in his voice.

"It's nothing," she said quietly, going to stand by the window.

"It's not nothing," he argued, watching her. "I can tell by the way you move that you are in pain."

"It will be all right." 

The hitch in her voice and the way her eyes closed were the first indication that something was very wrong.

He got to his feet in concern. "Lady?"

She turned her head towards him, but before she could reassure him, she collapsed to the floor. Arthur moved to her side and lifted her up, noticing a sour smell that he recognized all too well. He carried her to another chamber and called for Merlin.

When he arrived, he was concerned to see Arthur slicing Guinevere's dress open with a dagger.

"What has happened to my daughter?"

Without looking at Merlin, Arthur replied. "One of her wounds has gone bad and is poisoning her body." When he got the dress off, he stared at the angry wound in shock. "It's the sword wound in her shoulder from that bastard Cynric." He looked at Merlin and there was anguish in his eyes. "I won't let that bastard claim both of them."

Merlin nodded and started working on Guinevere's wound.

Arthur spent his time moving between the two rooms, and anytime he wasn't with Lancelot, Bors and Gawain were. When he wasn't with Guinevere, Galahad and Tristan kept watch over her. Arthur was with Guinevere, who was awake and talking again when Bors bellowed for him. He returned to Lancelot's room, only to find Bors and Gawain working to revive Lancelot. He ran to Guinevere's room and carried her back to Lancelot's room. Once Lancelot had been revived, a second bed was moved into his room. After that, neither Arthur nor Guinevere left his side again.

When Lancelot finally opened his eyes and spoke to Arthur, Guinevere felt something break free inside her. After a few moments, she slipped from the room unnoticed as the knights welcomed him back to the land of the living. Once she knew she was out of sight and she was far enough away from his room that no one would see or hear her, Guinevere collapsed into sobs and slid down the wall until she sat on the floor. Lancelot was alive and he was going to be alright. All of the tension and fear was being released through her tears and even when she tried to halt them, the tears would not be stopped.

It was Gawain who came upon her and he ducked quickly out of sight. He peered around the corner and watched Guinevere for a long moment. She was leaning against the wall, with her knees drawn up against her chest. She had tears streaming down her face and her choking sobs that she worked to stifle tore at the fierce man's heart. With a worried frown, he turned and made his way back to Lancelot's room. All of the knights were there and they all looked up in surprise when Gawain shut the door forcefully behind him.

"Gawain?" Galahad questioned him.

"Any of you notice that something seems to be missing?" he growled, fixing his fiery eyes on Arthur and Lancelot.

"Where is she?" Lancelot asked softly. No, it had not escaped his senses that Guinevere was not in the room with them.

Gawain looked at him, anger coloring his eyes and face. "I'm glad that at least someone has noticed that she left. You know, I've seen a lot of women cry, have heard a lot of women wail...but I have never heard or seen anything like what I just witnessed." His voice managed to sound both sad and angry at the same time and the room was completely silent. Every person in that room was focused on the volatile knight. "More importantly, I have never seen or heard that lady cry, except when she thought Lancelot was dead. She never shed a tear when that sword went through her---or when Arthur held her down as Merlin re-opened that wound to clean it and try to make it heal properly. However, what I just saw...it makes me want to tear something apart."

"Where is she?" Lancelot asked again, his voice dangerously quiet.

Gawain glared around the room. His eyes focused on Arthur. "Do you realize, sir, that the lady thinks you blame her for what happened to him?" He glared at Lancelot. "She thinks you will hate her because you almost died."

"Damn it Gawain..." Lancelot growled as he did his best to sit up and get to his feet. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder.

"Peace, Lancelot. You are in no condition to take part in a fight that doesn't need to happen." He looked at Gawain, understanding the big man's rage. Guinevere was a warrior and a survivor---had faced down death without flinching--- and the idea of her crying in pain was enough to make any of them want to fight. "Where is she, Gawain?"

"The lady Guinevere is down the hall in the alcove by the stairs. You won't hear her, she's too proud for that. However, she's sitting on the floor and sobbing as if something has been torn out of her."

Arthur didn't wait to hear anymore. He squeezed Lancelot's hand and swiftly left the room. He found her right where Gawain said she would be. Arthur knelt down and took her into his arms. He held her close and kissed her hair. He continued to do this until he could tell that she was calming down.

"Guinevere, why the tears? It's over. He is alive and he is going to be just fine. Your father has assured us of this."

"I know," she whispered shakily. "I just...I almost lost you both."

Arthur was confused. "How could you have lost us both?" He asked. "Not even my most serious wound was life-threatening. You came closer to death than I did. For a few days I did believe I was going to lose both of you to that bastard Saxon." When Guinevere didn't answer, Arthur moved in front of her and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes. What he saw there made him understand what she meant. "You thought that if he died, my love for you would die." He stroked her face. "Guinevere...I love you and I never blamed you for Lancelot's injury. Had he died and I had been stupid enough to let you go, his ghost would have haunted me until I fell on my sword to escape his torment. You are a part of us. I know that nothing I say will make you stop blaming yourself. However, know this: neither I, nor Lancelot, nor any of the knights have ever blamed you for what happened." He gently wiped her face and pulled her to her feet. "Now, let's get back to Lancelot. He needs us."


End file.
